


You Put Your Head In My Hands

by shadowsapiens



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Catboy!Five, Catboys, Fade to Black, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Sibling Incest, implied knifeplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsapiens/pseuds/shadowsapiens
Summary: “I need a favor.” Five scrambles to his feet, fluffy dark tail lashing behind him. “Don’t worry, it’s not the apocalypse.”
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Diego Hargreeves
Comments: 13
Kudos: 90
Collections: We die afen and afen





	You Put Your Head In My Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxdegloved](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxdegloved/gifts).



> hi foxdegloved, I didn't know I shipped this until I saw your prompt and SUDDENLY I DO, so, thank you for that! Hope you like this :)

Diego's used to seeing his brother fucked up. Sweating, face too pale and pupils too dark, staggering with every step. In dire need of an open palm or bucket of water to the face.

Just, he's used to that with Klaus. He’s not used to opening his door at three in the morning to find _Five_ slumped against the step. His ears are pointing two different directions and his uniform jacket is half off his shoulders, and his bangs are sticking to his forehead with sweat.

He looks pretty, even like this. Especially like this, maybe. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Diego hisses. The apartment hallway is empty, and Diego rerouted the security camera when he moved in so it doesn’t show his door, but he still can’t afford trouble so close to home. 

And make no mistake, Five is trouble. 

“I need a favor.” Five scrambles to his feet, fluffy dark tail lashing behind him. “Don’t worry, it’s not the apocalypse.”

“Wow, yeah, that’s such a relief.” Not the apocalypse is an improvement, yes. But there are few more worrying phrases than “Don’t worry” coming out of his brother’s mouth. Diego looks down the hall again. “Whatever, get inside.”

“Thanks, little brother.” Five smiles, teeth too white in the poorly lit hall, ears flicking forward, and pats Diego condescendingly on the shoulder. 

Tries to, at least. He loses his balance with the movement and staggers forward. Diego catches him on instinct, pulse quickening with the warm, small body against his. A twinge of painful wanting that Diego is well-practiced at setting aside. Except then he inhales, and something sweet floods his mouth, shivers down his throat.

He grabs Five by the shoulders and bends down to look at him better. Five doesn’t struggle against the bruising grip, just blinks up at him with glassy eyes. His ears flick forward, then pin back in his messy hair. His skin looks paper-white, and his lips are red and chapped. 

Diego’s human, but half his siblings are hybrids. Some of them even lived through their teens, and Diego knows what a heat smells like. 

He lets go of Five and closes the door. The only light in the apartment is a dim laptop screen on the coffee table, and a flickering streetlamp outside the window. The only sound in the room is Diego’s heart pounding, and the little sighing sounds as Five tries regulating his breath.

Diego speaks slowly, to keep every word in order, “Why are you here, Five?”

Five’s eyes are fever-bright. “Do I need to explain the birds and the bees?”

He’s trying to get under Diego’s skin, and damn it, it’s working. Diego steps away from the door, gestures at the apartment. At himself. “Why are you _here_?”

There’s a pause. When Five answers again, his voice is lower than before. “Because you won’t say no.”

He’s right. Diego hates it, but he’s right.

“Okay, okay. Do you.” The words catch in Diego's throat. They sound stupid and childish, but he can’t think of anything else. “Do you need help making it better?”

Five laughs, breathless and sharp. The sound cuts through Diego, and he’s about to push the little bastard away when Five grabs his collar and yanks him down. His other hand splays across Diego’s stomach, slides under his shirt. He breathes against Diego’s lips: “I need you to make it _hurt_.”

He unsheathes the knife at Diego’s hip. Presses the hilt to Diego’s palm. His slim fingers glide along the blade, then fall away. 

Diego shudders. His free hand strokes Five’s back, feeling the scalding heat through layers of clothing, then sinks into Five’s hair. Five doesn’t pull away. He buries his forehead in Diego’s chest and moans when Diego strokes the base of his ears. The fur is so soft against Diego’s callused fingers. He could pet Five for hours—but that's not what Five needs.

He shifts his grip on the knife and leads Five towards the bedroom.


End file.
